Chapter 128: Friendly Reminder, This Road Is Blocked

The black tailcoat was perfectly tailored to his frame, tracing a slender, elegant silhouette. He wore a black top hat and pristine white gloves, looking as though he had never been touched by the dust of the mortal world.

Most striking of all, however, was his Silver-White Mask. It bore an arrogant smile, the slightly upturned corners carrying a hint of disdain as if mocking everyone equally. The eye cutouts revealed deep, mysterious eyes, and the sheer Pride swimming within them perfectly matched the mask's smile. It was a gaze no one dared to meet.

The moment they laid eyes on this man, the high-society guests were struck by a sudden, jarring illusion: the figure before them was a true noble, while they were nothing more than monkeys wearing hats.

"Where is my Eye of Gold?!" Murong Zhuo's furious roar shook the entire hall. Veins bulged across his aged face, and his eyes blazed with unimaginable wrath.

Only then did the crowd realize that Murong Zhuo wasn't holding the Eye of Gold at all. In his hand was a single, crystal-clear green grape.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of gold erupted from the masked man's hand. The dazzling, golden eyeball rested quietly upon his pristine white glove.

From beneath the smiling Silver-White Mask came a slow, measured voice. "You are mistaken. It is mine."

"You court death!" Murong Zhuo bellowed. The air before him violently distorted as a highly compressed blade of wind shot forward. Trailing countless tiny streams of white air, it slashed straight toward the masked man.

Silver Law: Wind-Dancing Spirit Blade!

Swoosh!

The wind blade tore straight through the masked man's body. Carrying an undiminished, terrifying momentum, it blasted through the wall and glass behind him, leaving a perfectly smooth fissure in the masonry.

Since they were on a high floor, frigid winds immediately howled through the breach, flooding the banquet hall with a biting chill.

Just as everyone assumed the masked man was dead, they realized that not a single drop of blood was spilling from his severed body. Instead, the bisected figure began to fade, growing completely transparent before vanishing into nothingness.

"What?!" Murong Zhuo's expression darkened drastically. His falcon-like eyes darted around the hall. He absolutely refused to let anyone snatch the Eye of Gold.

Murong Zhuo's children and Qian Zihao all harbored their own hidden motives. Seeing someone steal the Eye of Gold actually made them breathe a collective sigh of relief; none of them wanted Murong Zhuo to have it.

Qian Zihao was relieved because of the marriage contract, while the children were focused on the issue of succession. The eldest son, Murong Yun, was especially eager for Murong Zhuo to hurry up and die. Without the Eye of Gold, Murong Zhuo wouldn't survive for more than a few years, at which point he would rightfully inherit the Murong Family.

At that moment, the sharp-eyed Murong Zhuo spotted a black shadow flashing past the exterior windows. A cold, murderous light burst from his eyes. "Trying to escape?"

Swoosh!

A violent gale erupted from his body in an instant, his luxurious robes snapping fiercely in the wind. He seemed to transform into the storm itself, vanishing from where he stood.

A thunderous sonic boom tore through the air. The exquisite banquet pastries, along with several guests standing too close to the blast, were sent tumbling to the floor by the torrential winds.

Crash!

The windows violently shattered as the gale-like figure dove headfirst out the breach. They were on the 68th floor!

The Silver Law, Wind Shadow Speed, granted Murong Zhuo the velocity of a hurricane, even allowing him to briefly ride the wind in flight. The sixty-eight-story drop was as easily traversable as flat ground to him.

With Murong Zhuo vanishing from sight, the remaining guests stared at one another in dismay. None of them could have imagined that a perfectly pleasant banquet would derail like this.

It was then that the eldest son, Murong Yun, stepped forward. As the firstborn of the Murong Family, duty and reason demanded that he take charge of the situation.

"Everyone, tonight's..."

He had barely spoken when a chorus of screams erupted from the crowd. Murong Yun frowned and looked toward the panicked guests, only to realize that their utterly terrified gazes were fixed directly upon him.

"Heh." A soft chuckle rang out right behind him.

Murong Yun's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his scalp going numb. 'When?!'

Without a split second of hesitation, he activated Wind Shadow Speed and darted violently away.

Only after putting distance between them did he notice the figure standing in his previous spot: a man wearing a Silver-White Mask, watching him with clear amusement.

That arrogant gaze left Murong Yun both shocked and infuriated. Exchanging no words, he instantly launched a Wind-Dancing Spirit Blade. As the eldest son of the Murong Family, both his talent and resources were top-tier, and he had long since stepped into the ranks of Silver 2.

Aside from having yet to comprehend the Murong Family's strongest ability, Eye of the Storm, he was confident his mastery over the other two Silver Laws was in no way inferior to Murong Zhuo's.

He realized the gap in their strength almost immediately. His highly compressed wind blade tore toward the masked man with the momentum to shred anything in its path, but in the next second, the masked man vanished like a ghost.

Murong Yun was horrified. He hadn't expected his opponent's speed to completely eclipse his own; he hadn't even been able to track the man's movement.

Then, that same soft chuckle echoed behind his back once again. "You cannot even touch the hem of my coat? It seems... you are a far cry from your father."

Swoosh!

Acting on pure panic, Murong Yun fiercely hurled a wind blade over his shoulder. The result... was that it completely missed the masked man, smashing directly into the crowd instead.

"Ah!!" Agonized screams and terrified shrieks ripped through the hall.

Five brightly dressed guests were instantly cleaved in half by the wind blade, sending blood and intestines spilling across the floor.

The vast majority of these guests were mere ordinary mortals; transcendents, after all, were a rare minority.

The crowd erupted into absolute chaos. Stripped of their elegant and noble facades, the high-society elites pissed themselves in terror and bolted madly for the exit. Qian Zihao was among them.

Qian Zihao cherished his own life above all else. He never could have imagined someone actually daring to cause trouble at a noble's banquet. If he had known, he would have brought his bodyguards upstairs.

This masked man had effortlessly toyed with the Murong Family Head; he had to be at least a Silver 3. Once an expert of that caliber truly started fighting, the entire Boli Hotel was liable to collapse. He had endless wealth to spend, and he absolutely refused to die here.

But in the very next second, the man in the tailcoat and Silver-White Mask reappeared. Standing upon the elevated platform as if he were the true host of the banquet, his mask's cold, arrogant smile swept into everyone's view.

Staring down at the fleeing crowd, he spoke in a light, indifferent tone. "A friendly reminder. This road is blocked."

But the terrified crowd was in no state to listen to warnings. A middle-aged man nearest to the exit frantically shoved the grand double doors open. Beyond them lay a corridor smothered in total, dead darkness, bereft of a single light.

He plunged into the darkness like a madman. But the very moment he took his first step past the doorway, thud!